


The Phantom

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-14
Updated: 2009-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/"><b>gw500</b></a> prompt opera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phantom

Trowa picked up the white porcelain mask and turned it over in his hands. It was smooth both inside and out. The slight chill of the evening was echoed in the ceramic finish though it warmed quickly where his fingers made contact with it. Stepping to the mirror he put it up to his face and studied his reflection. The deep set sockets made his eyes appear darker and more intense than they normally were. The effect was haunting and dramatic which appealed to the performer in him. Leaving it on to allow himself to adjust to changes in perception with slightly impaired peripheral vision, he walked back to where the large box lay on the bed.

On the top of a stack of garments was a precisely folded shirt. Trowa pulled his t-shirt off over his head and dropped it on the floor, eyes fixed on the next component of his costume. The material was bleached the color of freshly fallen snow and the starched crispness felt light and clean against his skin. The small translucent buttons slid easily through their holes as the two sides of material came together to appear almost seamless. Back at the mirror, Trowa brushed a hand over the ruffles at his neck and shook out the ones on the ends of his sleeves. The lace fell over the back of his hand emphasizing his long slender fingers. He had the hands of pianist or a lover, or so he had been told once long ago.

Under the shirt lay a pair of silky black trousers. He undressed quickly, even removing his boxers, before he shimmied into them. The material fitted to his slim hips and ass, caressing with a gentle yet seductive touch. A mock parry and repose followed by a running back flip confirmed he would not be hindered if he needed to take action of any kind. He tucked the shirt in, making sure that it did not break the sleek line of his body.  
Over the pants went a pair of thigh high boots. The leather was a soft matte black; handcrafted by a skilled craftsman at the height of his career. The custom work showed in the fit, the small even stitches and the way the heels made no sound when he moved to admire himself in the mirror yet again.

Last was the crowning jewel of the outfit. The item that Trowa had been anticipating since the moment he'd opened the box. A full length black cape lay at the bottom of the box. He pulled it out reverently, running his hands possessively over the fabric. The light seemed to disappear into the garment giving the illusion of magic created by science. This was exactly what he needed, but more than that, what he desired. He settled it on his shoulders, shrugging it into place, before carefully tying the cords around his neck. The cape was almost weightless and yet it was a warm, comfortable presence that framed his shoulders, before falling down to caress his hips and legs. Giving into a moment of sheer vanity he spun in front of the mirror then bowed deeply, letting the cape drape over his arm.

With an enigmatic smile and a final polite nod to the dapper image in the looking glass Trowa strode off, confident that once he put his plan into action he would not be disappointed.


End file.
